Category Archives: Poetry


Poem by Andy Dean

Into the Wood 3.15 Relaxation. A new class. It makes us anxious. She places a white orchid on the padded table. There is a torn label on the plastic pot saying REDUCED. Something for you to contemplate. Nature is so … Continue reading


Poem by Margaret Wilmot

Game in a Dutch Castle It is the pity of it, all those lives stuffed on their pedestals, dead. And a kind of shame pervades my pity too – as if voyeur at some nasty game. I shouldn’t be here … Continue reading


Poem by John Freeman

Opus 131 That opening slow rising-and-falling tune on the first violin, emerging out of silence, descending to the understanding welcome offered by second violin, viola, and cello so discreet I scarcely hear it, does for me what I think the … Continue reading


Poem by Karen Morash

Things I Have Advertently and Inadvertently Taught My Daughters This Past Year No one is wholly good or wholly bad. (with one or two exceptions) A movie scene with a woman being a warrior can make up for badly-written dialogue … Continue reading


Two Poems by Clyde Kessler

Landing in Chisana   Chisana is a lost ghost town. Even the ghosts have disappeared. Spruce trees crack against starlight and something jostles an owl from a limb.   A few cabins stare at me as if grousing, long-dead gold-rushers … Continue reading


Hermit – a poem by Penny Hope

Hermit   I am a hireling; garden ornament, fount of wisdom, morose and pensive resident. They bring me remnants from their banquets: roasted partridge; squabs from the dovecote – small specimens to delight my palate – but I feel for … Continue reading


Showering Grandma – a poem by Roger Elkin

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Showering Grandma   You sensed she’d reckoned right from the start we were kitting-out this wet-room especially for her.   That’s why she sits resplendent now on the bath-stool she’s placed just-so beneath the snaking shower head.   Only those … Continue reading


History’s Footnote: the fly – a poem by Roger Elkin

History’s Footnote: the fly  for Elliot Gittings   For much of the time goes unnoticed even when, after his zigzag tantivying, he draws near and lands four squarely almost in your face, to stand silently, legs angled and straddled like … Continue reading


Being Waspish – a poem by Roger Elkin

Being Waspish           … our neighbour said right from the start, No good will come of it. By “it” she meant billeting the Yanks in Stannard’s shirt-mill, where they bunked up between the greasy reek of stilled machines and the … Continue reading

Answering Julia Copus – poem by Sandra Galton

Answering Julia Copus

Yes, Julia, love can be like spilt tea,
inching up through us, warm and sweet,
sepia-coloured, you describe it –

but when it steals in unbidden,
that first timid stain (should you resist)
will embed itself, bleeding like raw meat

dense and violet, its fist of iron
ever-present, binding yet purblind,
drumming senselessly. Unanswerable,

not mere autocrat, but anarchist,
it breaks every rule – its rivers,
like arteries starved of oxygen, double

back to that place before you knew
love – and how it was to be
you being you.

Answering Julia Copus by Sandra Galton received a special mention in the Sentinel Literary Quarterly Poetry Competition (November 2017) judged by Abegail Morley.